


Never Unsaid

by PrincessMariana



Series: PM's Flufftober 2020 [17]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: 4 +1 times, Batfamily, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020, Gen, not proofread we die like jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMariana/pseuds/PrincessMariana
Summary: Dick's family likes to leave things unsaid, but that doesn't stop Dick.Or,Four times Dick said I love you, and the one time someone (sort of) said it back.Written for Flufftober 2020, Day 18: Things Left Unsaid
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: PM's Flufftober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951447
Comments: 6
Kudos: 175
Collections: Flufftober2020





	Never Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> I'm officially late on this flufftober thing, but I'm not giving up! I will finish! Eventually! (Happy All Saints Day, y'all.)

  1. _Bruce_



Dick had a fever and a turbulent stomach. Bruce knew, intellectual, that children getting the flu was normal. Nothing to worry about. As long as Dick’s temperature stayed below 104 degrees Fahrenheit, he would be fine. Everything would be _fine_.

“’m okay, B,” Dick said weakly.

Even sick with the flu, Dick was trying to soothe _Bruce_. Bruce really needed to work on masking his emotions better.

“I know, chum,” Bruce said, smoothing down Dick’s hair. “How do you feel?”

“Awful,” Dick admitted.

“Are you thirsty?” Bruce asked, reaching for a Gatorade. “Alfred says that you shouldn’t eat until your stomach settles.”

Dick’s hands were too shaky to hold the bottle without Bruce’s help. Bruce held the bottle steady while Dick drank a few sips. “I’m really cold,” Dick said pitifully.

Dick already had three blankets and a duvet covering him. Bruce grabbed the thermometer again. Dick whined softly in protest but opened his mouth. _102.9_. The reading hadn’t changed from twenty minutes ago.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep, chum?” Bruce said.

“When’s the – the last time…” Dick’s eyes fluttered closed as he gave a small yawn. “…you slept?”

“Don’t worry about me, Dick,” Bruce said. “Concentrate on getting better.”

Dick glared at him with more force than a sick child should have. “B,” he said hoarsely.

Bruce sighed. “Fine. Scoot over.”

Bruce toed off his shoes and slipped under the covers with Dick. Dick curled up against him. “Mmm. Warm.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Bruce said, more for himself than Dick. “You’ll feel better soon.”

“I know,” Dick said. “Imma sleep now.”

“Sounds good,” Bruce said.

He held his son close and began brainstorming ways to keep Dick from ever getting sick again. Bruce wasn’t sure if his heart couldn’t it.

“B?” Dick whispered after a few minutes.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce said.

He almost reached for the thermometer again, but then Dick said, “Love you, B.”

By the time Bruce’s brain restarted, Dick was sound asleep.

  1. _Alfred_



Dick was a rambunctious child, especially when compared to Bruce at that age. Since Dick had arrived at the manor, they had lost eleven vases and a chandelier. Alfred still hadn’t recovered from the chandelier incident. Fortunately, Bruce had been there to catch his energetic ward, and so Dick hadn’t been seriously injured.

“Hey, Alfred!” Dick said, sprinting into the kitchen with socked feet.

Despite the worry the young boy caused, he filled the manor with life again. Alfred couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Good morning, Master Dick.”

“Bruce and me are going on a picnic!” Dick declared eagerly.

“Bruce and _I_ ,” Alfred corrected.

“Oh, right,” Dick said. “Can you help me make sandwiches? Bruce says I can’t be alone in the kitchen after, well, _the incident_.”

Alfred didn’t like to remember _the incident_. “Certainly, Master Dick. What kind of sandwiches would you like?”

Dick wrinkled his nose as he thought. “What about those fancy cucumber ones, from that charity gala?”

“Of course.”

As Alfred took out the proper ingredients, Dick hopped on the counter and swung his legs back and forth, brimming with energy. “How can I help?” he asked eagerly. “Can I cut the cucumbers?”

Alfred absolutely refused to let Dick use a sharp knife. The child was too accident prone. Instead, Alfred showed Dick had to spread cream cheese on bread with a small, dull knife, while Alfred cut the cucumbers.

Dick gave the task his all, frowning in concentration, but he still managed to get cream cheese all over the counter and himself.

“Sorry, Alfred,” Dick said miserably as he surveyed the damage.

Alfred chuckled as he packed up the sloppily made sandwiches. “Never you mind. I have had worse sous chefs.”

Dick clearly did not know what that meant, but he still beamed brightly at Alfred. “Thanks, Alfie! Love you!”

He dashed off with the basket of sandwiches before Alfred could respond.

  1. _Barbara_



Bruce and Dick’s fights were getting worse. Barbara could understand Dick’s frustration. Her only father hadn’t quite accepted that she was eighteen and allowed to make her own decisions. But she could always sneak out her window and patrol the city when he became too much. Dick didn’t have the luxury.

“I think I hate him,” Dick said. He probably intended to sound angry, but he came across as sad.

The snowy days in Gotham were the worst for patrol. The night before, Dick had blatantly disobeyed Bruce’s orders and almost died. As punishment, he was forced on a long, lonely stakeout. Barbara was there as moral support and so that Dick could rant.

Barbara wordlessly handed Dick a cup of hot chocolate.

“Thank you,” Dick said gratefully, cuddling the cup close. “You’re the best.”

“Obviously,” Barbara said. “How long do you have to wait out here?”

“Until my mark shows, or I get hypothermia,” Dick said. “I think it’s a plow. B just wants me to stay put while he closes the case without me.”

“That does sound like him,” Barbara said, sipping her own hot chocolate.

“He’s being stupid,” Dick said. “If I’d waited for him to show, we would’ve been too late, and people would’ve gotten hurt. I’m not ten anymore. I can make my own choices.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Soon he can’t ground me anymore. See how he likes it then. I’ll be able to do whatever I want.” Dick hugged his knees to his chest. “Why doesn’t he trust me?”

“Dads are dumb like that,” Barbara said. “It’s how they show they care.”

“It’s stupid,” Dick said mulishly.

“Yep,” Barbara agreed. “I brought marshmallows. Want some?”

Dick immediately perked up. “I love you, Batgirl,” he said. “You always know how to make things better.”

It wasn’t the first time that Dick had said that, but Barbara’s face burned red under her cowl. “Don’t you forget it,” she said, shoving the bag of marshmallows at him.

  1. _Tim_



Tim hated Scarecrow and his awful fear gas. Bruce had given him the antidote immediately, so at least Tim wasn’t hallucinating demons or his parents’ murders. The physical effects, though – elevated heart rate, feeling too hot, dizziness, nauseous – were still present.

“Tim! B, what’s wrong with him?” Tim heard Dick say.

They must’ve reached the Batcave. Tim tried to say something reassuring, but it came garbled. He could feel hands lifting him out of the Batmobile and guiding him to a medical cot. He collapsed, his head lulling to the side on the pillow.

“Fuck,” Dick said.

It was never a good sign when Dick swore. Tim whined and blindly reached for him. “Dick?”

Dick tightly grasped one of Tim’s hands. “I’m here, Timbo. We’re going to get you hooked up on an IV, and you’ll feel better soon. Hang in there, okay?”

Tim moaned as his head pounded. “’leep?”

“Yeah, you can sleep,” Dick said. “I’ll be right here. I’m not going anymore.”

“M’kay.”

Tim woke sometime later, after the gas had left his system. He felt groggy but otherwise fine. He was in his own bed. Dick was sitting next him on top of the covers, working on a word puzzle. He smiled when he saw Tim awake.

“How do you feel?” Dick asked.

“Better,” Tim said. “Bruce is going to give me a big lecture, isn’t he?”

“It’s all part of the Robin experience,” Dick said cheerfully. “At least you’ll never forget to bring your respirator.”

“Definitely,” Tim said.

Dick ruffled Tim’s hair. “I can hold of B for awhile while you get some breakfast.”

“Could you?” Tim said. “I’d owe you big time.”

Dick got up and headed for the door. “That’s what big brothers are for. Love you, Timbers.”

_+1 Damian_

“Grayson, you do not need to be here,” Damian said, not for the first time.

Dick had learned not to take it personally. If Damian really didn’t want him at his school’s art night, then Damian would protest louder. Probably with knives.

“But you’re the first Wayne kid with any artistic talent,” Dick said, squeezing Damian’s shoulder. “I _have_ to be here.”

Damian rolled his eyes and was about retort when an elderly woman approached them.

“As I live and breathe – _Dick Grayson_?”

It took Dick a moment to recognize. “Ms. Chaistain?”

“Call me Gloria,” she said. “You’re not my student anymore. It’s been so long.”

Dick ruffled Damian’s hair while Damian tried to fend him off. “I’m here for this one,” Dick said. “Our first art prodigy.”

“Damian is such a delight to have in class!” Gloria said. “One of my best students.”

“That sounds like our Dami,” Dick said, grinning at his brother.

Damian grimaced. “Hardly a compliment,” he muttered under his breath.

Gloria laughed. “You remind me so much of your father when he was young. Oh, how much that boy has changed. Have you seen Damian’s art yet?”

“No, we were just heading there,” Dick said. “Damian’s feeling a little shy.”

Damian’s glare was venomous as Gloria ushered them through the crowd. “Follow me,” she said amiably.

“Oh, wow,” Dick said when they reached the wall section with Damian’s artwork. There three pieces on display. Two paintings of animals and the third was of Alfred preparing dinner. “These are incredible, Dami.”

When Dick glanced down at his brother, Damian’s face was a light pink.

“He brings them to life,” Gloria said. “I have to run – parents, y’know. But it was so nice seeing you again, Dick. Damian, good work.”

They said their goodbyes, and Gloria left.

“Are you going to show Alfred this?” Dick asked.

Damian sighed. “You are making this too sentimental. It was merely an art project that I was required to do at the school that I forced to attend.”

“You should him,” Dick said. “He’d like it. Much better than the crap I used draw for him and Bruce.”

“I will consider it,” Damian said stiffly.

Dick pulled Damian into a hug. Damian reluctantly let him. “I’m so proud of you,” Dick said.

“I appreciate you coming with me while Father cannot,” Damian said, avoiding Dick’s gaze.

“Love you, Dami,” Dick said warmly.

“I…care about you as well,” Damian said. “You are an adequate older brother.”

Dick wasn’t tearing up. He just had something in his eyes.


End file.
